


all this liquor bringing out the truth

by hamilton_taylorklaine



Series: Yorktown Hall [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, But it's cute I guess, Drunken Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Roommates, Tumblr Prompt, this took me so long to write holy shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7340887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamilton_taylorklaine/pseuds/hamilton_taylorklaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my god you just screamed ‘SO WHAT IF I LIKE YOU WHAT’RE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?’ at the top of your lungs in a very crowded restaurant and how about for starters I take you home and get you sober???”</p><p>lams college au</p>
            </blockquote>





	all this liquor bringing out the truth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! Thanks for clicking. This is not only my first fic for the Hamilton fandom, but my first fic of any sort in many months, so I'm a little rusty and I apologize if it sucks. This is also going up un-beta-ed, so let me know in the comments if there are any errors. I hope my characterization doesn't suck either. Blergh. I took some liberties with the prompt too and changed it up a little. You'll see.
> 
> Title taken from "Area Code" by Nick Jonas.

The first time John Laurens met Alexander Hamilton, he was doing what he does best--getting into an argument with Thomas Jefferson.

John got to his freshman dorm earlier than anyone else, and it only took him about two hours to move in. His roommate was a tall, muscular man who has eight names listed on the official college housing website, but the handmade name sign on their door simple said "Gilbert". He arrived as John was finishing up. So he had the unfortunate pleasure of watching the somewhat heartfelt but mostly tense and awkward goodbye between the Laurens family. John's siblings were sad to see him go, but the same sentiment wasn't obvious in his father.

"Be good, boy," Henry said with hands firm on John's shoulders and an almost death glare in his eyes. John knew exactly what that meant, of course--don't ruin the Laurens family name, even all the way out here, and the easiest way you could do that is by being your true gay self. Like John cared what Henry thought anymore. He was in college now, his own man. He could be as bad and as gay as he wanted.

Still, John nodded, they hugged, and the Laurens clan was gone. As soon as the door shut, Gilbert turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked, his French accent thick and catching John off guard.

John frowned and stared at the closed door. "Nothing, he's just a homophobic pile of shit." He held his breath, waiting. Now that he was on his own, he made a promise to himself he would be more open with his sexuality, something he wasn't allowed to do back home. But as he spoke, he was hit with the crushing realization that not everyone might be as comfortable with gay people as he thinks. John immediately wants to rewind time and not say anything. But then he feels Gilbert's arms around him, his chin resting somewhat awkwardly on John's shoulder. John freezes in surprise for a moment but then relaxes into it. He doesn't get a chance to return the hug before Gilbert is pulling back, hands resting on John's shoulders.

"I may have only just met you, John," John can't help but snicker to himself at Gilbert's use of the soft J, "but I know you do not deserve that man as your father." John sighs and smiles.

Gilbert takes a step back and extends his hand. "Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, but please, just call me Lafayette. They/them. Pansexual."

John's smile turns into a wicked grin. He takes Lafayette's hand. "John Laurens. He/him. Gay as the Fourth of July."

Lafayette's expression matches John's. They shake.

_"Enchanté."_

John leaves after a few minutes to give Lafayette and their family space to move them in. John passes the time by walking around the hall, scoping things out, and meeting new people. His hall was split in two, girls and boys separated on either side of a door, but each gender could easily access the other side. So he starts on the boys side, introducing himself to as many people as he can. He recognizes all the names from the college website and from adding them on Facebook as soon as he got his assignment, but talking to them is a different story.

Next door is Hercules, who has a tough football player's build but envelopes John into a bone-crushing hug after introductions. His roommate is Samuel, who seems nice enough, but Hercules rolls his eyes nearly every time Samuel opens his mouth, and the more John talks to them, the more he understands why. Further down the hall are Thomas and James. When John walks in, they look at him like he's covered in mud and they don't want him to stain anything. John makes polite small talk and leaves as quickly as he can.

In the other direction, in the room next door to John on the other side, there were Alexander and Aaron. Or at least, that's what the signs their RA, George, had made said. There was only one person in the room, though, a bald black man sitting quietly on his bed reading. John introduced himself, and the man identified himself as Aaron. Alexander hadn't arrived yet. And that was quite possibly the only straight answer John got from Aaron. Every other question John asked was either ignored or answered in such a roundabout way that John didn't think he actually answered the question. He'd come back later and meet Alexander, he had said, even though the exchange with Aaron was causing his head to spin.

The girls' side made him feel better. He was amazed at the sister trio, Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy that had all been placed in the same hall. Angelica and Peggy shared a room, and Eliza was next door with a girl named Maria. She was beautiful. Shit, they were all beautiful. Many a heart would be broken by these girls this year, John thought.

John eventually made his way back to his own room, stepping in as Lafayette and their family were saying their goodbyes. Once they left, Lafayette and John each sat on their respective beds and just _talked_. Perhaps it was their openness about their sexuality and identity, but both people felt a strong kinship and connection with the other immediately. They talked about everything. They got dinner at the on-campus cafeteria and sat together and talked. They came back to their dorm and talked some more. The only thing that interrupted their talking was a few hours later, incessant shouting coming from down the hall. They both looked at each other for a moment and got up to investigate.

At the end of their hallway was a small public lounge area. It was nothing much, really--the same ivory colored walls as the dorm rooms, a small cork board hanging on the far side of the room, a navy colored couch and a navy armchair, and a small wooden coffee table in the center. Thomas and James were sprawled across the couch. Aaron was in the armchair, hands folded, quiet. Sitting on the floor was someone John hadn't met yet today. Caramel colored skin, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail, jeans faded and tearing at the knees. John vaguely recognized the sunken eyes and beginnings of a beard from photos on Facebook somewhere in the outskirts of his mind.

Was this Alexander?

If so, damn, was he _fine_.

"You also have to consider the fact that women have to take maternity leave when they have children," Thomas was saying. "Plus, a year or so off to raise the baby. You think they deserve equal pay when they can't even work for a good portion of their lives?"

"Okay first of all, no one ever said women have to take years off to raise a kid," the other man, Alexander, responded harshly. "They take so much time off to be with their fucking kids, so they have an actual mother. And second, who says men don't have to take time off their jobs to be a father figure? If a kid is being brought up with both parents, then they should both be compelled to be there for their kid as much as they can. It's societal standards that say women have to become homemakers when they have kids, but whose to say men can't be homemakers too?"

"So if both parents are at home, raising a baby, how is the family getting any income?"

"Fair point, but there's nothing against women becoming the breadwinners while men take care of the house."

"Which would be illogical, since women make less."

"So pay them the same amount as the men! They're doing the same fucking job!"

"Probably not as good, though," Thomas laughed darkly at this, and James chuckled alongside him. Aaron barely moved. But Alexander was raising up on his knees, looking like he was about to start screaming (as if he wasn't already loud enough) or punch Thomas in the face. John would have been completely fine with that, but he spoke up before any blood could be shed.

"Shut the fuck up, Thomas," he spit. All heads, including Aaron, and even Lafayette, who had been standing behind John the entire time, turned towards him. Thomas and James' expressions held a mix of shock and disgust. Alexander's held surprise and wonder.

The bright brown fixated on John and seemed to push him to keep going.

"Women are people, and deserve to be treated as such, and part of that means paying them the same as their male coworkers for doing the exact same job. The fact that you think anything otherwise just shows that you're a misogynistic pig, which is a great first impression to make. Congratulations. You've been here less than 12 hours and already 50% of your hall hates you. Have a great semester."

Thomas blinked slowly. He leaned back ever so slightly and lightly rested his hands on his crossed legs. He looked at James, then slowly turned to Alexander, who was still staring at John in amazement. Thomas clicked his tongue and stood up. James was quick to follow.

"Wow, Alexander, you've already got yourself a boy toy at your beck and call. You really are a tomcat." And with that, he saunters away with James.

Alexander blinked a few times as they left, watching them go, then turned back to John and gave him a tiny smile. John let out a breath and sat on the side of the couch closest to Alexander. Lafayette perched on the armchair--Aaron had slipped out sometime during the madness, it seemed.

"Careful, they might have left some of their sexism on that couch," Alexander deadpanned, and John snorted.

"Please, I'm immune to that shit," John laughed, and Alexander did in return, but only for a moment. He brings his knees into his chest and wraps his arms around them.

"Thanks for defending me back there. Back in high school, when I got into those kind of fights, everyone would just yell at me to shut up, so, uh, thanks for not doing that. And also being on my side."

John's eyes grew soft and sad for a moment before hardening again at the thought of Jefferson. "Anyone with a brain would be on your side. Jefferson's rubbed me the wrong way since I got here, and now he's basically admitted that he's a grade-A douchebag. He probably kicks puppies in his spare time. No one that awful should get the time of day."

Alexander barks out a laugh. "Oh, man, then you should have seen our Facebook conversation last week when I told him I was bi. Barely even treated my orientation as legitimate, much less supported my right to marry."

Alexander went into the details of his exchange with Jefferson, but John's heart had stopped. _Bi_ , he said. _Alexander Hamilton was bisexual_.

He looked at him, really looked at him. The animation, the passion, the zeal. The way he was moving his hands, his whole body so much that some pieces of baby hairs were coming loose from his ponytail. If John didn't think Alexander was drop dead gorgeous online, he sure has hell did now.

His stomach flipped at the thought. Oh God. He's known this man for less than ten minutes and he's already so far gone.

He comes back when he realizes that Alexander has stopped talking.

John blinks and sees Alexander looking at him differently. Fearfully.

Right. They were talking about Alexander's sexuality. His bisexuality. And John had clammed up. Shit.

"Are..." Alexander starts to say, but John shakes his head. Wait, maybe that wasn't the right answer. He nods once. What was even the question? John laughs, embarrassed, plays with a piece of his ponytail.

"It'd be pretty hypocritical of me to judge you for that, considering I'm gay as hell."

John looks up just as Alexander visibly relaxes. His eyes soften, he smiles, warm. It feels like the sun has risen.

It feels like John has come home.

"You're John Laurens, right?" Alexander asks, and John nods. "I'm Alexander Hamilton, but you can call me Alex." He sticks out his hand to shake, and John takes it. The electricity shoots through John's entire body, and John tightens his grip on Alex's hand slightly in surprise. But he welcomes it openly. And if John is reading the way Alex's eyes widen as they shake, maybe he's feeling it too.

"... _'Allo_? I...how do you Americans say it...I am like chopped liver."

* * *

 

And that's how it began. From then on, Alex and John were an unstoppable, inseparable duo. They balance each other out. Alex motivates John to complete his assignments, and John makes sure Alex doesn't overwork himself. But they're also both hotheads, too quick to get into arguments and defend one another. When John looks back, he's amazed at the small number of physical fights they've gotten into, and that Alex didn't punch Thomas in the face until the end of April, freshman year.

John and Alex requested each other as roommates sophomore year. They somehow managed to score a two-bedroom apartment in the nicest building on campus. They request each other again junior year, and move to another two-bedroom in the brand new building that just opened that year. They spent as much of their free time as they could with each other. They learn each other's quirks, talk dark family history. They know each other almost better than they know themselves.

The only problem is that John is madly in love with Alex the entire time.

Technically, he met Lafayette first, so it was actually them who was the first to openly support John's sexuality. Alex was the second. But there was something different about Alex. He doesn't treat John's sexuality like it's a big deal. Lafayette senses from the beginning that John has had issues coming to terms with it, and it feels like they're walking on eggshells whenever they bring it up, which is often. They gradually learn over time, though, that they don't need to treat John with kid gloves.

Alex, though, Alex just _gets it_. That bright smile that first day was all the support Alex thought he had to give, and it was all John needed. Alex waggles his eyebrows at John every time he catches him oggling a hot guy walking past. He tries to set John up with people he meets at Prism, the LGBT+ club on campus. Only with guys who are confirmed gay, bi, or into men somewhat, no matter where they fall on the spectrum. He doesn't wanna put John through the heartbreak of falling in love with a straight guy. But John is never interested. He's in Prism too, and he knows all the guys Alex tries to set him up with. Nothing could compare to Alex, though. Smart, passionate, fiercely loyal, protective, and caring. He wants to sing Alex's praises every time they are together, scream from the rooftops how much he loves him.

But he can't. Because halfway through the first semester of freshman year, Alex starts dating Eliza Schuyler.

She is extremely beautiful and incredibly sweet. Just as loyal and caring as Alex is. She's a good friend to John, too. They go bird-watching together sometimes, something John can't do with Alex because Alex thinks its boring and expresses it openly.

Alex is good to her. He treats her like a queen. She's good at keeping him grounded, he tells John. They're adorable together. Watching them interact is cavity inducing.

For John, though, every kiss he sees between them is another knife shoved into his stomach.

He doesn't resent Eliza. She is a lovely girl, too precious and kind to hate. No, John hates himself for letting his feelings build and fester for two months and not doing anything about it. He hates himself because of the only two paths he sees for them--his feelings for Alex get in the way of their friendship and they fall out, or he stands as the best man at Alex and Eliza's wedding.

He hates himself for being too late.

Or maybe not.

Alex and Eliza break up after about a year, almost as soon as their sophomore year begins. John is heartbroken for his best friend, of course, but there's a terrible twisted part of his heart that is overjoyed that Alex is single again, that John might still have a chance.

He remains a supportive friend first. Inquires what happened between them. Alex doesn't want to get too much into it. Assures John he'll be fine, it wasn't meant to last. John accepts this, but then Alex gives more.

"She kinda started getting controlling. Well, no, it just felt...like she was restraining me. She was always against it when I got into Twitter fights, or started working on essays weeks in advance. She didn't have to say it, I know that's how she felt. And it felt like it was bringing me down. It felt like she...like she was trying to put out my fire. She didn't fan it. She didn't fan the flame like you do."

John's hearts bursts. It's not a confession, but it's close. It's enough. John can feel it. Things are going to change.

But they don't.

It's junior year now, second semester. John and Alex are still attached at the hip, the best of friends. John is still in love with Alex, and has still refused to acknowledge it or do anything to get their relationship to where John wants it to be. They're at a bar--John and Alex both recently turned 21, and now that the excitement and hype of being legally allowed to drink has worn off, they're at this bar down the street from their building to de-stress, to blow off steam. Now that they're both well into their respective programs, this trip has become a ritual--both are always in constant states of worry and unease about assignments, internships, grad school, and the general hustle and bustle of college life, so the dinner and drinks on a Saturday is one of the few things that gets them through the week.

This week, though, seems to have taken a toll on Alex. He complains, as he usually does, but the things that are upsetting him seem to weigh heavily on him--he speaks with the same angry passion, but they sound like Alex is physically pushing them out of his body, instead of their usual rush, like a flowing river.

John doesn't completely understand why until Alex orders a Trash Can.

A Trash Can is a mix of virtually every single hard liquor available in America--vodka, tequila, rum, the works--along with Red Bull, and probably some strawberry syrup or something to give it flavor and ease the burn. John isn't a hundred percent sure. He's never ordered one. And Alex only orders something this hard when he doesn't want to deal with his problems. When he wants to forget.

John's curiosity peaks, but he holds his tongue and braces himself for a long night.

Alex only orders one Trash Can--it's all he needs. He orders another mixed drink, with only one type of hard liquor, and it isn't long before Alex is completely shitfaced. He's able to prop himself up on his elbows and keep himself upright, but his speech slurs and escalates in volume. Alex is naturally a loud person, but he's an even louder drunk. He's on a rant about Donald Trump and his "stupid hair and his stupid face" when John lays his hands on his arms.

"Alex," John manages as he tries to calm his laughter. "Calm down."

"Nah, why should I, everyone in this bar should know what a FUCKING RACIST HE IS!" Alex all but screams, turning his head to look at everyone around him. John puts a finger to his lips and starts laughing again, grabbing Alex's shoulders and pulling him back in.

"Alex, please!" John says softly. "People are staring. If this were a protest, I'd be right up there with you, but you're so drunk right now. Keep your voice down. Now's not the time."

John says all this with a smile on his face, but something shifts in Alex's eyes, and his frown turns sad instead of angry. He looks down at his hands, swirls his drink around with his straw.

"What?" John asks, eyebrow raised.

"Why d'you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Tell me to shut up."

John's jaw goes slack. "I didn't say that."

"I know you meant it though." Alex looks back up, eyes hard, speech alarmingly clear. "Aaron and Thomas do it all the time, but even you and Eliza, I know you don't like it sometimes when I talk too much, even about important shit."

"Alex, come on, you know that's not true."

But Alex doesn't seem to be listening. He also seems to be getting progressively louder again. "And I'm sick of it. I've been here for almost three years and I'm fucking sick of it. College is supposed to be the place where you find yourself and learn who you really are and all that shit, and I did. I protest things that I don't like, I write a fuck ton, and I don't take no one's shit, and I talk a lot. I talk about things I like and things I don't like. _At least I get shit done._ Look at Aaron, the most wishy-washy person I've ever met in my fucking life, I have more opinions in my pinkie than he has in his entire fucking body, and he's surprised he still hasn't been voted onto Student Government. And he tells me I'm running my mouth like it's a bad thing? So what if I run my mouth? So what if I talk about things I'm passionate about?"

He's screaming now. John has been shot back in his chair by the sheer force of passion from Alex's speech, but he tries to lean forward. "Alex."

"So what if I get things done early, and fight for what I believe in, and go after what I want?"

"Alex, _please_."

"SO WHAT IF I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, OKAY, JOHN? WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?"

Their entire section of the restaurant has gone silent. Every seat is filled, and all eyes are on the two of them. Out of the corner of John's eye, he sees a 12 year old girl pointing her iPhone camera in their direction.

But John doesn't care. Alexander Hamilton, albeit a very drunk Alexander Hamilton, just admitted _very publicly and loudly_ that he is in love with John. His heart stops, then beats frantically. His eyes are so wide John worries they'll fall out. Every muscle in his body is tense, and when he tries to move, his hands shake.

"....I-....Is that true?" John asks after what feels like an eternity. The words are chopped, John can barely breathe.

The entire time, Alex has been looking at him with daggers, part of the reason John is so frozen to his seat. But after John speaks, it's like a switch has been flicked in Alex's mind. His shoulders visibly relax, his eyes go half-lidded, he grins, leans forwards, looks like he's going to invade John's space.

He nods once. Exaggerated. But it's still a confirmation.

"I repeat." Alex's voice has dropped, sultry, seductive. " _What are you going to do about it?_ " He bites his lower lip, chews on it, tilts his head back, eyes level. John begins to sweat.

If this was any other moment in time, if this was a private confession back at their apartment, John would have grabbed him and kissed him like he needed Alex's kisses to survive. He would have dragged him back home, to one of their bedrooms, peeled Alex out of his clothes, and fucked him like he deserved to be fucked. Dirty. Raw. Hard. But with enough love to make up for the two-and-a-half years that John didn't get to.

They were in a restaurant. A crowded restaurant, where some eyes had gone back to their plates, but many were still on them, anxious to find out what John would do about it.

Alex was also very, very drunk. And John was not going to confess his love to the man while he was wasted

John pulls out his wallet and places a $50 on the table. It should cover their food, drinks, and a healthy tip as an apology for the commotion they've caused.

"I'm taking you home."

Alex's eyes sparkle. He grins, and John curses under his breath at how it sounded.

"No, you're drunk. We're going home, and you're going to sleep. Without me. We'll deal with this in the morning."

Alex's face falls. John stands, hesitates for a second before extending his hand to Alex. The grin returns on his face, and he grabs John's hand, hoisting himself up. He trips, but John catches him, laughing. The intensity of the moment has evaporated.

John swings Alex's arm over his shoulder and they stumble out. Their apartment is further down the street, so the walk is less than ten minutes. But Alex is a problem, not only from the way he can barely stand up on his own, but how he nuzzles John's cheek, jaw, and neck the entire walk back. John's dreamed about this for so long--Alex against him, pressing kisses all over exposed skin, arms secure and strong around him. But this? This feels all wrong. The more John thinks to pull Alex closer, the sleazier he feels. So he sighs in relief when their building comes into view and he finally reaches the door.

John easily buzzes in to the lobby with one hand, presses the elevator button, and hauls Alex inside. As soon as the doors close, Alex crowds John into a corner, and John begins to panic again. But Alex can't seem to be able to kiss John properly, which John is weirdly thankful for. So Alex just continues his nuzzling, but with firmer presses of his lips against skin, and more laughter, darker, huskier, and right in John's ear. It sends pure fire through John's blood. John ducks his head as low as it will go. Alex can now only get to John's forehead and cheek, but he's still persistent Alexander Hamilton, and keeps going.

If they don't get out of there soon, John's sure he's going to explode.

Luckily, the elevator dings for their floor and John pretty much drags Alex out, down the hall, and into their apartment. He opens Alex's bedroom door for him and shoves him down onto his bed.

"Good night," John says, and turns to leave.

"Noooooooooo," Alex whines into the comforter.

"What?" John can't fight back the laughter as he turns back around. Alex responds, but it's muffled by the thick blankets and John can't make out any words. He walks over and pushes Alex's shoulder and hip up and over so he's lying on his back. Alex is looking up at him with warm, puppy-dog eyes and is pouting.

"Stay with me," he pleads, attempting to reach up and make grabby hands at John, but his arms barely life more than six inches off the bed. John laughs once and shakes his head. He chews on his lower lip.

"I don't think that would be good for either of us," he says softly, more to himself than to Alex. They've shared a bed before, that would be nothing new. But that was completely platonic. Now that Alex's feelings are out in the open and John's feelings are probably painfully obvious, sleeping in the same bed would turn their world on its edge, a world that's already begun to spin out of control.

Alex's eyes grow sad. "Please?" His voice is soft. The pout is gone. It feels like, in this one moment, the dizziness of the alcohol has left Alex's system and he is asking John for permission, but at the same time it sounds like he will be heartbroken if John says no. It sounds like Alex sees John as the most beautiful of angels, and all he wants is to be with him a few minutes more.

It feels like Alex doesn't understand what this does to John.

But he concedes. Alex pumps his fist, a muttered "yes" leaves his smirked mouth, and he rapidly scoots up the bed. John contemplates helping Alex out of his jeans--they certainly won't be comfortable to sleep in. John bids his time by quickly grabbing some of his own pajamas and changing in the bathroom. By the time he comes back, Alex has turned on his side, knees tucked up but facing the wall, his arms extended in the same direction. His eyes have closed, his breathing has steadied.

He's already asleep.

John sighs. Alex is a heavy weight on top of the comforter, so John doesn't even bother trying to remove it from underneath him. Instead, he takes a quilt out of Alex's closet and settles it over the man's sleeping form. John slips under next to him, a careful calculated distance away.

Then he makes the mistake of turning towards Alex. His features always soften when he sleeps, and it always feels like such a shock to John's whole world because it's so rare to see Alex this calm. John's not sure about the existence of a one true God, but he thanks Him or whoever or whatever forces brought John and Alex to this moment, brought John to Alex. He thinks this is what it feels like to be blessed.

John leans up, back around Alex and slowly pulls the hair tie loose, letting his ponytail fall. He puts the tie around his own wrist and runs his fingers through Alex's hair, spreading the strands out over his shoulders. John feels Alex's fingers inching out, gently touching the hem of his shirt and his hip, and John lets himself be pulled in. Alex's arms circle his waist, his face pressing into John's chest, as if he needs John to anchor him. It is like that sometimes, in the waking world, when Alex is so far gone into his own head that he needs John to bring him back and out. But of course, now it feels different. This close, John can practically feel the love Alex has for him rushing through his body, rushing into John at every point their bodies touch. It makes him feel more whole.

But John can't think about that now. He doesn't even know if Alex meant it, and it would hurt to much to start to believe him if it wasn't true. Even so, John wraps his arms around Alex's shoulders, tucks Alex's head under his chin, and has he falls asleep, tries to send all the love he has in his body through to Alex's through both of their t-shirts and under Alex's skin, hoping he feels it too.

* * *

 

Alex feels like someone has built a house on top of his body.

He has never been this hungover. He has barely been awake for 20 seconds and he already knows this for a fact. He can't open his eyes, doesn't even want to try. The heater that thums throughout the apartment buries itself in Alex's ears and makes every other quiet sound uncomfortable, like a pea under a mattress. And his kinesthetic senses are off--he knows he's in a bed, he can feel his own blanket around him. But something feels skewed, and he's not even going to bother trying to figure it out. Even making the decision not to worry about it hurts his brain.

So Alex doesn't move. He's not sure if he even breathes. He tries to focus on going back to sleep, but focusing on anything pounds at his head, tears it into pieces. He wants to groan in frustration, but he knows from experience that the sound, the feeling in his chest will be too much for him. So he lies there, motionless, thoughtless (or the closest Alexander Hamilton can come to being thoughtless), ceasing to exist for the time being.

He probably falls back asleep, because the next time he's aware, he can open his eyes. Barely, but at least it's enough to figure out where he is and how he got there.

From the spot he's looking at on the ceiling, he can recognize the placement of the doorways and window openings that surround him. He is in his room. That is a good sign. He lets out a small breath, and his hair tickles his face. That's weird. He definitely remembers tying his hair up last night. He tries to think. He remembers John, going with John to the bar, being frustrated with Jefferson and his cohorts, ordering food, ordering a Trash Can. Ordering something else, more alcohol.

That's where his memories stop. He tries to think harder, but it causes another splitting headache. He lets out a groan this time, the rumbling in his chest centers him but the sounds splits his head even further, and Alex screws his eyes shut and breathes hard, trying to make it go away, trying to make it all go away.

A body moves next to Alex. He knows it is not his own. Alex's eyes fly open and he freezes. His hands grip his comforter. Wait, why is his comforter underneath him?

The body leans up, and Alex can just move his head enough to see that it's John, leaning on his elbow above Alex. The panic doubles. _What did he do? What did **they** do? _ But John is fully clothed. So is Alex. He feels the denim on his legs, a little scratchy, but it eases him. John has Alex's mother's quilt falling off his shoulders. Alex can feel the cloth around his body too. Okay, good. John must have gotten it for them. That's another sign that everything's fine, everything is fine.

Then John smiles. First it's just his lips curving upwards. Then his lips part, his teeth show and his face turns equal parts warm and mischievous. His shoulders shake with a quiet laugh. Alex feels pinned down, not just by his headache, but by John's gaze on him. His eyes crinkle like Alex spent last night getting up to no good, and John knows but Alex doesn't. That's probably true, Alex can barely remember a thing. But there's something warm and soft, too. Like John is looking at Alex like that because he's glad he's okay. Like he's looking at him like that just because he can. Like...almost like...

_Love._

All the memories from last night come rushing back. John starts to speak.

"Morning sleepyhead."

_John's hands on Alex's arms. Please, Alex. People are staring._

"Before you say anything, don't even start with me on how you have work to do today. There's no way I wasn't letting you sleep in after how much you drank last night."

_Alex's voice bouncing around in his own ears, bouncing of the walls. Louder and louder. The liquor talks. Why do you always do that._

"It's 1 o'clock in the afternoon, if you must know. But you're staying right here. You probably feel like garbage, so I'm taking care of you today. No buts about it."

_People **are** staring. But Alex doesn't care. Everything he's ever thought spills out of him like a waterfall. It feels good. Sick of it. So what. Alex calm down. So what so what so what. Alex, please. _

"How are you feeling? How's your head? Do you want some aspirin?"

_So what if I'm in love with you, John? What are you going to do about it?_

_So what if I'm in love with you, John._

_I'm in love with you, John._

_I'm in love with you_.

Alex rolls over and vomits into the wastebasket on his side of the bed.

When Alex sits back up, John is gone. He comes back quickly, though, with two glasses of clear liquid, one full of bubbles, and a bottle of pills. Alex takes the pills and lets John help him into a sitting position. He swallows two pills with the non-bubbling liquid, water. John hands him the bubbling glass and Alex sips on it. Seltzer. Ginger ale. Something in that family. John asks him if he needs anything else. Alex shakes his head, but his brain splits apart again, and he winces, breathing hard. John gently moves Alex forward so he can put pillows behind him against the wall, all the way up to his head. He leans Alex back and they seem to sigh in unison. John says something else that Alex can't make out against the splitting in his brain and leaves again. About ten minutes later, he comes back with plates of food for both of them, filled to the brim with eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and pancakes.

"You're a saint, John Laurens," Alex says quietly as he takes his plate. His voice sounds muffled in his ears, and too loud, but the food is more pressing. John chuckles and ducks his head, returning to his spot next to Alex.

They eat in comfortable silence. John continues to be a saint in Alex's eyes as he cares for him throughout the day. Alex is much better and has come more to his senses by the end of the day.

He's well enough to talk about the events of the previous night, most likely. But neither man acknowledges it. It's swept under the rug, almost like it didn't even happen. The more time passes, the less either are sure it's even real.

But as they both went to sleep last night, in their own beds this time, echoes of last night kept replaying themselves in their minds and wouldn't stop. Alex's teasing grin. John's warm gaze. _I'm in love with you._

This wasn't something you could just blow away, they both realized. They needed to talk. And, if luck was on their side, something needed to change.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, the next day was Monday, which meant back to class and back to their busy lifestyles, which meant no time to talk. Alex, being Alex, always overloads on classes, which means he barely has time to say hi to John, let alone have a serious conversation about their relationship.

John likes to keep his Mondays light to ease into his week. Alex packs his Mondays in full, diving headfirst into all of his responsibilities. So John eats dinner alone and is curled on the couch with a notebook in his lap when Alex bursts into their apartment and closes the door rather loudly behind him.

"We need to talk."

John freezes, his pencil scratching over and messing up the word he's currently writing. He barely even blinks, eyes focused on the upper corner of his notebook. The panic quickly sets in. His mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario, that Alex not only did not mean what he said, but feels so guilty about the whole situation that he doesn't think he and John should be friends anymore. Okay, probably not realistic in the slightest. But when John was a kid, those four words were always a precursor to something John didn't want to hear. _Everything's going to be fine_ , John forces himself to think. His mind starts whirling around in the other direction, Alex proclaiming his love for him in a dramatic Alexander Hamilton fashion, and John forces those thoughts down too. He breathes harshly through his nose as he sets the notebook and pencil down on the coffee table in front of him and leans back against the couch. He folds his hands and finally meets Alex's gaze. _No, the way I'm sitting looks too professional,_ John suddenly thinks, and loosely crosses his arms over his legs. _No, this is weird too_. He leans back again and turns, propping his elbow on the back of the couch, his temple resting on his closed fist.

This earns the tiniest of smiles from Alex, more of a small movement of the corners of his lips than a real smile, as the man sits on the couch next to John, close but not close enough that they could accidentally brush against each other. John would have to reach if he wanted to hold Alex, and that creates a tear in his heart.

Alex wipes his hands on his jeans and breathes in, out.

"I remember what happened on Saturday."

John freezes again. Alex looks up at John. Time seems to stop, the moment suspended in air, hanging between them.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

John doesn't breathe.

"And I meant all of it."

John can physically feel the Earth stop spinning underneath him. He has two seconds to register and process before Alex is talking again.

"I've been in love with you for a long time. Probably a year, give or take, if you really wanted me to put a number on it. Not while I was with Eliza or anything, before you ask, so don't feel guilty about that or anything. And yes, I loved Eliza, I still do, she's a wonderful friend, and you probably remember most of it from when we broke up. But after that, I started thinking about you, and how great you are and how great we are together and how great we _would_ be together, like, as a couple, and how you do all this stuff as a friend that Eliza would _never_ do as my girlfriend, I think you remember me talking about that too, and I just kept thinking and thinking and I kinda fell in love with you just like that, very fast but very real. But I didn't want to say anything because of how great we already are together as friends, we have such a great thing going, our dynamic is so incredible and I've never had a better friend than you and I didn't want to mess that up by being in love with you and you not being in love with me too. But I guess I'm taking that chance now. I love you, John Laurens, I really love you so much, and I hope you feel the same way, but it's alright if you don't. If you don't, I'd still love to be your friend, if that's okay."

John feels dizzy and faint. This might have been the second time Alex admitted he was in love with John, but it felt even better now. It felt more real, Alex's words burying themselves in John's brain and heart and threatening to explode both organs. Alex was in love with him. And John was so desperately in love with Alex he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. And now he didn't have to.

But Alex is not usually patient. So when John remains slack-jawed for what feels like an obscenely long time, Alex's eyes grow sad and he begins to stand, frowning.

"I'll ju--"

Before John can think, he's grabbing Alex's wrist, pulling him back down onto the couch, and kissing him hard on the lips.

It's all too much at first. John eases back a little, his grip on Alex's wrist loosens and the pressure of his lips soften. And _oh_ , there it is. The sparks, the tightness in John's belly from the feeling. John feels drunk. This is better than he'd ever imagined. Alex's lips are soft and warm and they taste like coffee and Red Bull. His beard scratches against John's chin, and it makes John want to pull Alex flush against him. But he restrains. For whatever reason, his body is unsure of Alex's feelings and doesn't want to do anything to put Alex in an awkward position.

But then Alex takes charge.

Just when John is about to pull back, one of Alex's arms circles John's waist and pulls him closer. Not flush bodies together, but John can feel Alex's heat radiating off of him and it's so satisfying. John wraps his arms around Alex's neck and tilts his head further to one side, giving Alex more room. Alex's tongue slides across John's lips, and he parts them for him, an animalistic noise rising from the back of his throat. Alex breathes out hard through his nose, and their tongues collide for a few heavenly moments before the lack of oxygen seriously begins to affect John's brain and he pulls back. Their foreheads rest together and their breath mixes in hard pants. Alex smells like wood and old denim. John smells like coffee and coconut oil shampoo. It's intoxicating.

When John has collected himself, a wide smile takes over his face.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

Alex lets out another harsh breath. His eyes go wide in surprise and he smiles.

"How long?"

"Since the moment I met you."

Alex's lips curve down. "Why didn't you say anything?"

John shrugs one shoulder as his smile starts to fade. "Same as what you said, we had a great thing going and I didn't want to mess it up but being in love with you and you not being in love with me. And you had Eliza. She liked you from the beginning, too, and she got to you first. You were wonderful together. I couldn't ruin that."

"You could have. It wouldn't be out of character for you."

John chuckles darkly. "But I didn't."

"But you can now." John begins to smile again, and Alex continues. "Forget about what happened back then. Don't think about the could have's and the should have's and the didn't's. You can't do anything about all of that. All you have is here and now. And here and now, you have me. I'm yours. You can have me if you want me."

"Of course I want you," John says softly and pulls Alex in for another deep, dizzying kiss. John's hand cups Alex's jaw and remains there as they separate. John slowly rubs his thumb back and forth, and Alex smiles gently.

"You can say it now, too, you know."

John is confused for a fraction before it clicks and he grins, keeping his lips closed.

"I want to hear you say it," Alex adds. John returns his arms to circled around Alex's neck.

"I love you, Alexander Hamilton." The bright smile returns, and all the sun and happiness, floods out of him. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I lov--"

Alex's smile matches John's, and even as Alex cuts John off with another kiss, their joyous expressions remain.

**Author's Note:**

> Bless your heart if you made it all the way to the end. This turned out longer than I anticipated. I thrive off validation, so please leave comments and kudos if you so desire.
> 
> A lot of this was based off my own freshman college experience, particularly all the settings. My freshman hall was set up the exact same way, with the gender split, and there are a lot of sports bars near my college. One of the places I go to a decent amount actually has a drink called the Trash Can.
> 
> I was also thinking about making this a verse possibly? Since they all live in the same freshman hall, I figured that could be fun. Let me know if you want that, and also if you have any ideas for that, please let me know because I will need them desperately.
> 
> You can also send me ideas, scream at me about hamilton, or simply find me elsewhere on tumblr @ taylorklaine or on twitter @ courtnoodles.
> 
> Thanks again for clicking!
> 
> EDIT: 200 KUDOS AND 2000 HITS ARE YOU ACTUALLY SERIOUS RN OH MY GOD I'M ABOUT TO CRY THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU'RE ALL AMAZING


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